


How the World Should Be

by LesboDyke, seemeeimbeebee



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/F, Mostly Fluff, Multi, Some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:50:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11897154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesboDyke/pseuds/LesboDyke, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seemeeimbeebee/pseuds/seemeeimbeebee
Summary: After Daenerys broke the wheel, the world had changed. There was peace, true peace, for the first time in a long time. And now, those who had suffered the most, they could find some happiness with each other. (Rating may go up as time goes on)





	1. Seasickness

**Author's Note:**

> seemeimbeebee is to blame for this glorious OT4. I hope you all enjoy the fruits of our labours!
> 
> Jon/Gendry is going to be a very minor side pairing. They're tagged so it's not a surprise to any readers, but if you came here looking for them, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Margaery asked, settling next to Sansa with a goblet of water, hoping to settle her own sea-sickness. They’d been on the ship a week, and despite every sailor’s insistence that it would fade, Margaery was still bringing up every piece of food she ate if she stood up for too long.

“Jon has vouched for her,” Sansa pointed out quietly. “And it’s not like we haven’t sent many Ravens ourselves. Daenerys seems to be a reasonable woman, if a little overly familiar too soon. It can’t hurt for us to meet her.” She added on, absent-mindedly rubbing Margaery’s back. She privately wondered if Margaery being above deck was a good idea.

“True, but both of us? Is it safe to leave Winterfell with your Sister?”

“Well I doubt she’ll burn it down.” Sansa replied flatly. She and Arya might not be seeing eye-to-eye all the time, but Sansa knew that she could trust her sister. Even if she was creepy. Bran was the worry, but Sansa trusted her sister to keep him in line too. Margaery nodded, resting her head on Sansa’s shoulder. “If you vomit on me, I’m leaving you.”

“Yes, love.”

With his own proclivities, and the knowledge of how much Sansa loved Margaery, one of Jon’s first steps as ‘King in the North’ (after the battle plan) had been allowing all people to marry. According to him, Daenerys Targaryen also felt the same, which helped a little in terms of Sansa’s nerves on this trip.

“So what do you think she wants?” Margaery asked after a few minutes of silence. That had been the constant question since they’d left Winterfell. They still had no definitive answer, but their theories had ranged from ‘we’re being executed’ to ‘strange girls night ritual’

“Jon didn’t say,” Sansa admitted. “But after all that’s happened, I doubt he’d send me any place where he thought I’d be in danger…” She nervously tugged at her lower lip with her teeth. “Oh God, he’s sending me away to assassinate me. He knows Arya would never lift a finger against him.” Now Margaery was the one doing the back rubbing.

“That’s ridiculous, Sansa.” She pointed out, managing to not sound  _ too _ condescending. “Jon loves you, he’s not going to go out of his way to kill you. Besides, this trip was expensive. He wouldn’t waste the money just to kill you.” Okay, Margaery wasn’t very good at the comforting, so instead went silent and just lightly rubbed Sansa’s back, hoping that would help instead.

“But he could,” Sansa muttered, pressing her head against Margaery’s miserably. Not for the first time on this trip, her stomach churned, but she knew it wasn’t due to the rocking of the boat. “It’s ironic. The one who always wanted to be dolled up gets sent off on this lavish journey only to end up being roasted alive by dragons…” She closed her eyes. “Wait. The game is over. I am being ridiculous. Jon wouldn’t...there’s no need to...”

“You said it.” Margaery muttered quietly. “I mean, I love you, sweetheart, and I’m sure this is just a good trip.”

“I love you too.” A quick kiss to Margaery’s cheek, and Sansa was curled up against her again. “See the world,” she said, trying to imitate her brother. “Sail the seas. You’ll both enjoy it.” She made a face. “If only he knew you’d be the color of the grass the entire way there,” she teased.

“Not the entire way!” Margaery protested, tapping Sansa’s nose. “I was fine on the horses, it’s just since we got in this floating coffin. I don’t trust it.” Margaery was still a little green, but it was calming the longer Sansa kept her talking and distracted.

Sansa couldn’t keep the laugh back if she tried. “Love, I think the ship is a little more sturdy on water than a horse.” Her hand slid up Margaery’s back and began toying with her hair. Margaery bit back a quiet whine, moving in a very unladylike manner (since there was no one watching them) to allow her head to hit the table.

“How much longer?” She asked, hoping that she wasn’t whining like a child. There was a good chance that she was, however.

“Two days,” Sansa replied, gently kissing the top of her head. “Do you want some tea and biscuits? I can make some for you.”

“Don’t mention food!” Margaery protested, shaking her head against the table. There was a pause, before she spoke again, far quieter and sounding much more pathetic. “The tea would be nice though…”

“Tea it is,” Sansa said affectionately, still rubbing her back. “Do you want to go lay down in our room? Or are you trying to communicate with the table using your mind?”

“The table says you’re being a bitch.” Margaery huffed, before sitting up. “I’ll go lay down, but only if you promise to stop being mean to the afflicted.”

“I promise,” Sansa murmured, kissing Margaery’s temple again. “Go on, I’ll make your favorite tea and you get comfortable in the bed.”

“Thank you.” Margaery stood, still wobbling a little. She lifted her goblet of water and started towards the door. Part of her wanted to kiss Sansa in thanks, but making it to her and then back to the door felt like far too much of a challenge. She’d kiss her later.

Instead, Margaery wobbled up the steps and out onto deck. She was greeted by overly cheerful sailors, who all found it rather hilarious that the last Tyrell standing got seasick. Many of them had known her grandmother, who naturally hadn’t gotten seasick in the slightest.

Reaching their cabin, and their bed, Margaery set the goblet down on the dresser and flopped down face first into the bed with a soft whine. “I hate ships…”

“My love, you know that laying on your stomach only makes your seasickness worse,” Sansa scolded gently. She rushed to put Margaery’s cup of tea beside her goblet over water before attending to her wife. “Curl up on your side and I’ll get your best friend on this trip.” She went over to the corner before procuring a bucket and placed it by Margaery’s side. “Now, I believe someone wanted tea.”

“You’re bossy.” Margaery grumbled, but followed Sansa’s instructions regardless. “Hello bucket, we meet again.” She grunted unhappily. She prodded the wood unhappily and got comfortable on the bed. “Tea, yes. No more bossiness. No more meanness. Or no more affection.” She waved her finger vaguely in Sansa’s direction, attempting to be intimidating. It wasn’t working.

“You’re cute when you’re sick,” Sansa said, her smile both sympathetic and somewhat amused. “Come on now, lay back and be happy that I love you enough to make you tea,” she murmured, kissing Margaery’s forehead. “Could be worse, honestly.”

“I love you too, little dove.” Margaery mumbled, settling down properly and reaching out blindly for her goblet and sipping the water.

“Hey, I’m not a dove. I’m a wolf,” Sansa said, playfully snapping her jaw. She climbed in bed beside Margaery and nuzzled in close. “‘m just as tough as you.”

“You’re tougher than me.” Margaery corrected. “I’m just a pretty face.” She was teasing, her fingers knotting with Sansa’s. “That’s my power. You’re the strong one, my love.”

Sansa blushed and brought their joined hands to her mouth to kiss Margaery’s. “While your face is pretty, that’s definitely not true,” she mumbled. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t strong…you survived Joffrey and Cersei. Well, we both did, but still…”

“Sweetness, my strength comes from my pretty face. People look at me and think I’m pretty but dumb. That means they don’t think about me as a threat.” She chuckled. “But thank you, for defending my strength, even if it was just to me.”

Sansa frowned, nuzzling her face into Margaery’s neck. “Well, you’re not dumb,” she mumbled, squeezing Margaery’s hand. She nuzzled her neck there again, trying to get comfortable. “Mine.”

“Mmhmm, all yours.” Margaery promised, using her free hand to stroke through Sansa’s hair, before it felt like she was being punched in the gut. “But right now you have to share me with my bucket!” She shifted, sitting up just enough to get her head over the rim and empty out the contents of her stomach. “I hate this ship.” She whined, rescuing her handkerchief from her corset and wiping her mouth.

“Taking off the corset might help,” Sansa offered. “Less pressure on your stomach.” She rolled over to grab a hairbrush from her bedside table, and began brushing Margaery’s hair.

“That would mean taking off my dress. You don’t really want to see me naked right now, do you?” Margaery asked, flopping back down and humming softly at the gentle affection to her hair.

“Well, if you being naked means you’re comfortable and not making me worry that you’re actually having morning sickness with a Lannister hellspawn, then I suppose I can suppress my desires for one night,” Sansa said dryly.

“It’s been too long since I was with Tommen, if I was pregnant, I’d have given birth by now.” Margaery pointed out gently, before sighing. “Okay. Help me out of this, unlace me, little wolf.” She teased.

“As you wish, my lady,” Sansa murmured, gently undoing the laces and opening up the back of Margaery’s dress. She couldn’t help but place a kiss to Margaery’s bare shoulder at the mention of Tommen. Margeary hummed, letting out a deep breath as her laces were loosened. She was careful as she slid her arms from her dress, before standing to remove it properly.

“It is colder than I thought.” Margaery admitted, laying her dress over the chair before moving back to the bed as quick as possible and cuddling under the furs there. “Not as cold as home, but still chilly.”

Sansa grinned a little at Margaery calling Winterfell “home”. “Mother used to say cold was good for upset stomachs,” she told her. “She used to have the nurses dip clothes in ice water, and then put the cloth on the back of my neck when my stomach was upset.”

“If you do that to me, I’ll leave you instead.” Margeary warned. “Grandmother always made us sweat when we were sick. Apparently heat killed sickness.” 

“When we had fevers, Mother used to bury us in furs, just so we could sweat it out. But plain stomach aches required cold…” Sansa recalled. “Certainly kept us from playing sick. No one wanted a cold cloth on their neck if they didn’t have to.”

“I apparently have to and I don’t want it.” Margaery pointed out, cuddling in towards Sansa. “And I never got my tea.” She was being pathetic again, but it had already been a week of this, and they still had two more days. It was draining.

“Your tea is right next to your goblet, love,” Sansa said softly, her hand cupping the back of Margaery’s head and stroking gently. She closed her eyes, feeling somewhat comforted by the rocking of the ship.

“Don’t tell me you’re magic like your brother too.” Margeary huffed, though she made no moves to actually claim her tea, instead remaining curled into Sansa for now. The rocking wasn’t helping her, but being this close to Sansa was.

“I put it down when I came in, when you were determined to bury your face in the bed,” Sansa murmured against her forehead.

“So you’re not magic, just sneaky.” Margaery chuckled, lightly tangling their legs together, just so they could stay close. “Maybe you should have been the assassin, rather than your sister.”

Sansa screwed up her face at the thought of being an assassin. Though, she gladly shifted closer when Margaery wove their legs together.  “Hardly,” she replied, shifting to be in closer to her wife. “Although if you throw up on me I may kill you in the night and disappear.”

“You’d wait until the night? I’m impressed by your self control.” Margaery teased, breathing in deeply to try and control her rolling stomach. The fact that the smell she breathed in was that of her wife was also pretty helpful.

“Well I wouldn’t want you to be covered in puke when you’d die. I’d have to bathe you so you could get clean and it would lull you into a false sense of security,” Sansa yawned.

“You’re creepy.” Margaery teased, rubbing Sansa’s back. “But you sound tired. So why don’t you go to sleep and finish plotting my murder in the morning.” She smiled fondly in spite of herself and pressed another kiss to Sansa’s forehead.

“‘ve you met Bran and Arya? ‘Creep out your foe’ is the new Stark House motto,” Sansa mumbled, her words starting to slur with sleepiness.

“Perhaps I should have married Jon instead.” Margaery teased. He’s the only one who isn’t a creep.” She added on, still rubbing Sansa’s back in gentle circles. “Get some sleep, my love. The more we sleep, the sooner we’ll arrive.”

“Jon came back from the dead. He’s Creep of the North,” Sansa mumbled, more asleep than awake. “Wait, no, that was Littlefinger. Jon’s a good brother.” She nuzzled her face more into Margarey’s neck. “‘f that were true, y’could’ve napped your seasickness away…”

“I am so glad you and Arya got rid of him.” Margaery admitted, with a smile. “And I’ve been trying to sleep away my seasickness. It’s not been working because I’ve been feeling to sick to sleep.” She pointed out. “But you should sleep. You function better with it.” With that said, Margaery began to hum, hoping that, combined with the rubbing of Sansa’s back, would put her to sleep.

“Y’function better with sleep,” Sansa retorted and let out a sleepy little giggle at her wit. “Y’should sleep. Sleep is nice. You’re nice too.” Margaery just smiled and continued her gentle humming. It was a song someone up in Winterfell had taught her. She hoped that the fact it was a recognisable song would help. Everyone got homesick, even if they wouldn’t admit it.

“Cheater,” Sansa huffed, though it was broken off by another loud yawn.

“Mmmhmm.” Margaery agreed, before returning to her humming. Sansa was cute when she was sleepy, but sleepy could turn to tired in moments. And tired Sansa was  _ scary _ Sansa. So Margaery was hoping to get her to sleep before that happened.

“Don’t go?” Sansa whispered softly, her head drooping a little bit more against Margaery’s shoulder. “Please don’t go…”

“I’m right here.” Margaery assured her. “No one is going anywhere. I’ll still be here when you wake up.” She promised, pressing a kiss to the nearest patch of skin she could find. “But you still need to sleep, sweetness.”

Sansa let out a tired noise of agreement and her eyes fluttered shut. Her face pinched in distaste when she realized she was still clothed. “Corset’s still on,” she mumbled, picking up her head. It swayed from side to side with her drowsiness. “Need help.”

“Okay, okay.” Margaery chuckled, shifting slightly. “Sit up, I’ll get you out of your dress. I do have plenty of practice, after all.” She teased, chuckling at her own lame joke.

Sansa reluctantly pulled away, her eyes still closed as she tried to sit up. She was too sleepy to come up with a retort to Margaery’s joke, but her lips were still pulled upwards in the beginning of a grin. “D’y’think she wears corsets?” she mumbled. “Mother of Dragons? Or does she roast corsets over the fire like chickens?”

“I don’t know.” Margaery admitted, helping Sansa sit before unlacing the corset and helping to remove it from Sansa’s shoulders. “But I’m sure if she does, they’re very fancy corsets. Jon did say she was beautiful.” Margaery sighed. “Okay, the rest is on you.”

Sansa let out a long drawn whine, gently headbutting Margaery. Margaery chuckled, carefully manhandling Sansa to get the dress most of the way off. “Can you at least lift your own adorable derriere, Sansa?” Margaery questioned.  
Sansa nodded, giving her wife a sleepy smirk before she did as she was told. It took a moment for Margaery to actually get the dress off. “There we go. Lay down. I’ll lay this out and then we can sleep.” Margaery hesitated, realising she’d have to stand. She could do this, she’d already emptied her stomach.

Her entire body wobbled as Margaery stood, moving to lay Sansa’s dress atop her own on the chair, before slipping back into the bed with a sigh of relief.

“All done, sweetness. Time to sleep now.” Margaery assured Sansa, pulling her into a cuddle and holding her close, still feeling the newly married thrill of skin on skin, despite how long they had actually been married.

“My hero,” Sansa mumbled, draping a possessive arm over Margaery’s torso. She pressed her face back into Margaery’s neck and hummed contently at the warmth of her wife’s body against hers. “Love you more than lemon cakes.” Margaery snorted at the strange term of affection and kissed Sansa’s head.

“I love you too. More than anything.” Margaery promised, going back to rubbing Sansa’s back and humming. Now that they were both nude, it only took moments before Margaery felt the tell-tale signs of relaxing that told her Sansa was asleep. Margaery knew she likely wouldn’t get as much sleep, but she stayed pressed close to her wife, closing her eyes and focusing on feeling Sansa breathe rather than anything else.

It helped, and while she didn’t get much sleep, Margaery didn’t feel as sick for the rest of the night. Maybe two more days wouldn’t be so bad, if she could convince Sansa to just stay in bed with her. Meals could get tricky, but if anyone was able to get meals delivered to their room, it would be Sansa Stark of Winterfell and the last standing Rose of the Tyrells. Two days in a small room together sounded, honestly, like heaven to Margaery. Especially since they were heading into the deep unknown of Dragonstone, to meet with the Mother of Dragons and possibly become over-acquainted with Dragon fire. This could be their last reprieve, so of course Margaery wanted to make the most of it. She was only human after all.


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys has her own crisis of confidence. Sansa and Margaery's boat arrives. Ser Davos is So Done with everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Ruling Stewardess' part of Dany's title basically means that she's technically handed rule of the kingdoms over to Jon, but should there be a need for her to take them back, she could do so with ease. We were relatively certain that this was the correct term for such an arrangement, but if you know of a better one, please feel free to tell us!

Footsteps rang out through the hall as Dany paced back and forth, furtively glancing up at the window every few steps. “What if they don’t come?” she asked, definitely not fretting. Daenerys Targaryen did not fret.  

“Dany...” Yara had been watching her for nearly an hour now. She was definitely smirking, eyes bright with amusement as Dany paced herself into a tizzy.

“What if something happened on the way here?”

“Dany.” Patience was a highly understated virtue when loving Daenerys Targaryen.

“What if there was a storm? Or a tidal wave?”

“Dany!” Well, Yara had to draw the line somewhere. This was getting close to ridiculous.

“What, Yara?”

“You’re playing what if again. Stop it or I’ll start flicking you,” Yara said, eyebrows raised in challenge. There was a pause as Daenerys clearly considered continuing, before sighing, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“Fine.”

A cry sounded from outside and Yara peered out the window. “Well now you’ve gone and upset the children,” she teased. “You better go out there and console your babies. They think something’s happening to you.” Dany let out a noise somewhere around the region of distressed and hurried to the window, trying to see whether they really were upset or if Yara was still teasing her.

Viserion was under the window, whining a little and butting at the wall with his head. He looked up at her, and flapped his wings agitatedly. Drogon, who was sleeping on a hill farther away, opened one eye and closed it again. Rhaegal was happily blowing fire into a flock of birds. He hit a few of them and caught them as they fell out of the sky.

“Your mum’s all right, you big lug,” Yara huffed, reaching down to gently pet Viserion. He huffed worryingly, blowing warm air up her arm until she pulled her hand back.

“I think he’s still mad you screamed the entire time you were on his back.” Daenerys said with a chuckle, scratching Viserion’s snout lightly.

“That was years ago!” Yara protested, huffing herself now. “I don’t scream anymore when riding on him.”

“For better or for worse, they remember everything,” Dany murmured softly, smiling as Viserion gently headbutted her hand again. “Although you scream when you ride on me so you traded one dragon for another.”

“Your children indeed, they certainly didn’t get that from me,” Yara huffed again, rolling her eyes. Dany snorted, pulling her arm back to tap Yara’s nose instead. Yara scowled, puffing up her shoulders for a moment.

“I feel they got their murderous streak from you.” Daenerys pointed out, grinning widely, her earlier panic momentarily forgotten. It would probably return, but for now she was distracted.

“I resent that implication.” Yara replied. “After all, I seem to remember hearing about a certain favorite son of yours roasting Harpies…” There was a pause, before Dany chuckled.

Viserion made a noise of indignation that Dany played favorites, flapping his wings as he tossed his head at Yara.

“They picked up a few habits from their Father.” She defended, reaching out to rub Viserion’s snout again, hoping to settle him. It wasn’t like she was  _ deliberate _ in her favouritism.

“Maybe I picked up a few habits from their father as well,” Yara snorted. “Also...aren’t you technically from the House of Murderous Dragon Babies? Or am I mistaking you for another House Targaryen?”

“By that logic, you should be trying to throw your brother off a bridge.” Dany countered, childishly sticking her tongue out at her wife.

“I would, but he’s too far away.” Yara shrugged, unable to help the grin that crossed her features. “Besides, if I threw him off a bridge, then I couldn’t be here to deal with you and your insanity now, would I? Who would soothe the children and reassure them that Mummy doesn’t play favorites?”

“Well certainly not  _ you _ , you’re the one telling them I play favorites in the first place,” Dany chuckled, softening as Viserion seemed to relax under her touch.

“One of these days, love, they’re going to like someone that isn’t you, and then where will you be,” Yara predicted. “Who knows, maybe dragons and direwolves have a lot in common?”  There was a pause, before Yara realised her mistake.

“Do you really think-”

“No! No I do not, don’t you dare even think that.” Yara corrected quickly, holding up a threatening finger towards Daenerys. “You  _ know _ that they won’t let anyone else near them. Well, other than Jon, but he doesn’t count towards anything.”

“And Tyrion,” Dany mumbled, resting her hand more firmly on Viserion’s snout. If she leaned out over the wall, she could make out the scar from when he had been nicked by the Ice King’s spear. Her face fell a little at the memory.

“Everyone likes the God of Tits and Wine.” Yara pointed out. “I’d be more worried if they didn’t like him, honestly.” She reached out, tucking a stray strand of silver hair back into Dany’s braid. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Then why aren’t they here yet?” Dany asked wryly, smirking a little bit at Yara. There was a pause, and Dany recognised the look on Yara’s face. “Don’t you dare. Yara!”

“Maybe there was boat traffic?”

“I said not to!”

“Or perhaps a six-headed monster rose up from the sea and ate them,” Yara said mischievously.

“That’s impossible, you’re stood right here.” Daenerys shot back with her own smirk. Yara grabbed Dany by the front of her dress, pulling her in close for a quick kiss. She nipped playfully at Dany’s lips once the kiss was over.   
“You’re a menace,” Yara teased against Dany’s lips. Dany just laughed and kissed her again, resting their foreheads together after a second.

“I’m  _ your _ menace.” She pointed out, earning herself a smile, a real one rather than a smirk, from Yara.

“My Queen?” Missandei at the door interrupted any response Yara may have had, and they both quickly looked towards the translator, almost seeming guilty as they did so. Missandei, as she always was when she found the two of them being romantic, was highly amused. “There’s a boat in the dock. I believe it’s the visitors you’ve been waiting for.”

“Thank God. Any longer and she would’ve gone up in the dragons to go find them,” Yara snarked. Dany swatted her arm, before straightening her posture, then her hair, and finally her dress, smoothing out the places where Yara had scrunched it.

“Let’s go greet our guests,” Daenerys raised an eyebrow at Yara. “And let’s be  _ polite _ when we do.”

“Okay, Mummy,” Yara teased, offering her arm to Dany. Not accepting it, Dany moved towards Missandei, ignoring the smirk that graced her friends face.

“Surely you should meet them on your wife’s arm?” Missandei suggested, still smirking as Yara caught up to them.

“I would, but she’s being an irritant. So she’s being ignored.” Dany kept her head high, though she noted the mirth that was plastered firmly on Missandei’s face.

“You’re being a bit of a cunt so I’d say it’s about even,” Yara snarked under her breath, grinning at her shoes. Missandei snorted, and Dany huffed.

“It’s like before you were married all over again.” Missandei pointed out, hiding her mouth behind her hand to at least  _ attempt _ to hide her great amusement at their bickering.

“Missandei, are you suggesting that I am somehow in love with my wife less since marrying her?” Yara gasped in faux outrage, still grinning. “Clearly, our bickering shows that our love has only grown stronger. Isn’t that so, my dearest, darlingest love?”

“Exactly so.” Daenerys agreed, falling back slightly to finally take Yara’s arm, letting out her own short burst of laughter. Yara kissed her cheek, happily escorting her wife to the docks. The dragons, sensing the activity, began to circle around in the sky.

“Your children are a bunch of showoffs,” Yara teased. “Drogon’s all but preening for our guests here.”

“Our children.” Dany corrected.

“They’re only our children when they’re about to misbehave.” Yara pointed out knowingly. Dany nodded, grinning at Yara.

“Of course. When they behave, I want all the credit.”

“I suppose I should be thankful that I’ve been upgraded from ‘potential dinner’ to ‘not dinner’.”

“You think very highly of yourself, Yara.” Daenerys pointed out, watching as Rhaegal settled himself in the water near the boat, as if he were a water lizard. A few screams sounded from the boat and the sailors who hadn’t yet vacated all quickly ran ashore.

“Oh, look. Our boy thinks himself a duckling,” Yara chuckled. “D’you suppose he’d let us ride of his back in the water? Perhaps we should take our guests there first.”

“Behave,” Dany quietly huffed out a reprimand as Sansa and Margaery stepped off the boat and onto the shore.

“That’s a dragon….” Sansa pointed out to Margaery, watching as the colour returned to the Tyrell’s face once her feet made contact with solid ground.

“Yes, darling. Well spotted.” Margaery agreed, hiding her own fear of the fire breathing dragon behind sass.

“Do you suppose it’s friendly?” Sansa asked.

“Yes, the big fire-breathing lizard seems very friendly. Wouldn’t be surprised if he ate the boat while we were inside. Though if that means I don’t have to ever get back on it, I’m not classing that as a wholly bad thing…”

“Ghost doesn’t look very friendly, but he’s as soft as butter.” Sansa pointed out, squeezing Margaery’s arm and motioning up the path with her head. “Look… I think that’s her. And… Theon’s sister maybe?”

“If she’s Theon’s sister, shouldn’t she have come to see us?” Margaery asked.

“Be nice, the Queen of Dragons invited us here. It’s all a complicated mess anyhow,” Sansa hissed. Margaery bit back a grumble.

“I’m not complaining, I’m asking a perfectly valid question.” She muttered under her breath, before affixing on her most political smile as Daenerys and Yara got close enough to realise they might be speaking. She gave her wife’s hand a tight squeeze.  
“Who’s that with them?” Margaery asked, managing to talk without moving her lips too much.

“How should I know?” Sansa quipped back, before settling her own smile in place. Whoever it was walking with the Mother of Dragons, she was likely also important. Possibly the advisor that Jon had mentioned a few times. Missy-something.

“That’d be Missandei, m’ladies.” Davos spoke up, making both women jump. They hadn’t realised he was following quite so close behind them as they moved across the beach.

“Thank you, Ser Davos,” Sansa nodded gratefully. It was terribly rude not to know the names of the people you were meeting. Even if they each had someone to introduce them. The two parties grew close and stopped. There was a moment of silence, before Missandei stepped forward and began a clearly well rehearsed listing of titles.

“Welcome to Dragonstone. This is Daenerys Stormborn, first of her name, ruling Stewardess of the Seven Kingdoms, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains and Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, and her wife, Yara of House Greyjoy.” Maergery kept her composure, though it took Sansa a moment to bring herself to speak without the risk of laughter bursting from her. Yara cleared her throat expectantly and Missandei added, “And ruler of the Ironborn Navy.”

Yara smirked proudly and looked over at the two women who had just disembarked. Sansa nodded in greeting, Margaery repeating the action just after. Clearing his throat, Davos motioned to Sansa.

“This is Lady Sansa, of House Stark, and Lady Margaery, the Last Rose of the Tyrells.” He explained, able to feel his eyes fighting to not roll out of his skull. He’d been with highborns for many years now, Stannis before the Starks, and he’d never understood the need for such pomp and circumstance when introducing yourself. But it was the thing to be done, and Davos had assured his King that he’d look after Lady Sansa. Even if that did mean partaking in ridiculous highborn traditions.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Sansa said graciously, curtseying before Dany and Yara.

“Please, my friends,” Dany said warmly. “You do not need to bow to me here.” She came forward to take Sansa’s hands in her own and squeezed them. “I trust that your brother and his husband are doing quite well? Gendry, was it?”

“Yes, your grace, my brother and his husband are quite happy,” Sansa said with a soft smile. “I’ll send Jon your regards when I write to him next.”

“I am glad to hear it. Truly, I am.” Dany smiled and squeezed her hands again before doing the same to Margaery.

As Dany turned to converse with Margaery, Yara sauntered forward and smirked at Sansa. “I’ll take a curtsey, my lady.” The twinkle in her eye gave away her teasing, and despite having never met the woman, even Sansa picked up on it. Regardless, she dipped a little. “Now… I’ve heard many stories about you from my brother. Care to tell me a few about him, if we get the time?”

Sansa stiffened a little bit, her heart beginning to pound lightly. But she forced herself to smile and remember stories from they were younger and not immediately think of Ramsay. “I would love that,” she said, hoping her voice was still light and cheerful. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Margaery looking at her in concern. Before she got the chance to send out any message for ‘help’, or assure her wife that she was fine, Yara barked out a laugh and lightly clapped her on the shoulder.

“Good. It gets awfully boring here in the evenings, a few tales of my brothers bumbling ineptitude shall alleviate that.” Yara had noticed Sansa’s expression too, but knew it wasn’t her place to comment on that. Instead she did what she did best. Break tension with her loud voice and a cheap joke.

“Your brother saved my life,” Sansa said firmly. “While the stories from our childhood are carefree and silly, he saved my life.” Margaery, not much caring that she was being rude, pulled a hand free of Dany’s grip to take Sansa’s, squeezing lightly. Daenerys watched, her head tilted just slightly as she took in the scene. Yara’s demeanour softened and sobered and she nodded.

“Aye, he’s grown brave in his time. But he’s my little brother, I feel it is rather my job to find the less than stellar moments and poke fun. Providing they were funny in the first place, of course.” Yara pointed out. Daenerys breathed out a slight sigh of relief. Really, that could have ended badly, but she should know by now to trust Yara. She might not always think before she spoke, but she could normally fix her own verbal messes.

Davos had taken a step towards Missandei, offering her one of his rare smiles. “Hello again, Missandei.”

“Ser Davos,” Missandei replied, dipping her head. “It is good to see you again, truly. I’m glad we get to see each other on better circumstances.” She looked out to the four women. “Although that could’ve almost been bad.” Davos chuckled lightly and nodded.

“Aye, it could have been.” He agreed. “I’ve seen the Tyrell temper, though I’ve not been on the receiving end yet. Roses have thorns sharper than Wolves teeth at times.” He gave the warning in a jovial tone, despite knowing the truth behind it.

“I imagine so, especially if the Rose is looking to protect the Wolf from harm. I’ve seen a Kraken rise to the defense of Dragons. I thought I had seen everything after that, but I suppose there’s something to be said for adding Roses and Wolves to this mix.” A lull was had in the side conversation, before Davos’ smile came back.

“So tell me, Missandei. Has anyone managed to swipe you from th’market yet? Or does an old Onion still have a chance?” Davos was only teasing, of course. But after weeks of soldiers, sailors and highborns, it was nice to speak to someone on his level.

“A poor choice of words, I think,” Missandei laughed. “But yes, I am happy with someone.”

“That young chap I saw you with last time we met? Or has someone else caught your eye?” He couldn’t help himself, playfully raising and dropping his eyebrows at her, before laughing. “Y’don’t have to tell me a thing. I’m simply an old romantic at heart.”

Missandei laughed brightly. “It is good to see you again,” she murmured happily. “Shall we escort you inside?” she offered.

“Let’s give them a moment,” Ser Davos offered. Missandei nodded, folding her hands back over her stomach and standing in comfortable silence with her friend.

“So do you ever prick a man in the balls with your thorns or what?” Yara asked. The noise that came from Daenerys was something akin to choking, as was the one that left Sansa. Margaery, however, never lost her composure.

“One or two. Would you like to see what I can truly do to a mans balls? I’d be happy to show you if you had some handy,”  Margaery said wryly, gently patting her wife’s hand.

“I see getting off the boat has returned your sense of humor,” Sansa said, finally getting her voice back. Dany’s eyes were drawn back to the Stark, and the two shared the kind of look that creates a kinship in the moment, over a partner’s actions. Yara, however, let out another bellowing laugh.

“Ah, Lady Rose, it’s good to see your Grandmother lives in you.” She said, still chuckling through her words. “You share her fire, I see.”

“Fire’s not really my thing, that seems to be more of your wife’s strategy,” Margaery said with a winning smile. Sansa smiled affectionately and kissed her cheek. Another sigh of relief sounded from Daenerys, this one loud enough to be heard.

“I feel this conversation would be better continued inside. You two look like you could do with a seat on a solid chair, and perhaps some food?” Dany offered, getting the sense from one of Sansa’s earlier comments that Margaery had been seasick. The still slightly pale sheen to the Tyrell’s skin basically confirmed her theory.

“That sounds wonderful.” Sansa agreed, squeezing Margaery’s hand in a soft reminder to  _ behave _ . Margaery squeezed back, as a sign of support and comfort from the look she’d seen before. “Lead the way, Your Grace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell us what you liked!


	3. Preperations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both sets of women get ready for their Dinner.

“There are no furs here,” Sansa murmured, eyebrows furrowed. She fidgeted as her fingers danced along the soft blankets on her bed. “I’d just gotten used to furs again…” Margaery nodded, offering Sansa a slight smile.

“If you don’t think you can sleep without them, I’m sure we could bring some of the ones from the ship ashore?” She offered. There was a pause. “You. You could bring some of the ones from the ship ashore. I’m not getting back on that thing unless I have to.”

“It’s not that,” Sansa replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “It’s…” She bit her lip. “When I was taking to King’s Landing, I knew that things would be different. The Lannisters weren’t our friends, not really...I think I just expected it to be like Winterfell since Jon spoke so highly of it. But it’s nothing like home. And...and I know it’s silly to expect that this was going to be exactly like home, just...south.” She sighed. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

“Not really.” Margaery admitted. “But I understand what you’re trying to say.” She assured her wife, pulling her away from the bed and into a hug, a hand running over the back of Sansa’s head and down her hair. “But this  _ isn’t _ Kings Landing. And the only Lannister you may see is Tyrion. And last I remember, you liked Tyrion.”

Sansa smiled a little bit at this, gently nudging the side of Margaery’s head with her own. “He was my husband at one point,” she said affectionately. “And probably the most noble man I’ve ever met. I would like to see him again.” She pulled back so she could stroke her wife’s cheek. “I suppose you being here makes it home enough,” she decided fondly.

“Home is where we’re together.” Margaery reminded Sansa of her own words. They’d been said a lot, in Margaery’s early days up in Winterfell, where she often lamented being unable to return to High Garden, and missing her family.

Sansa recognized that look on her wife’s face and kissed her nose. “Maybe we can convince Danerys to try and restore High Garden? I thought...maybe we could plant flowers there...roses and such. It...it’s not the same as them, but…” She blushed, realizing she was rambling.

“You are far too sweet, my love.” Margaery smiled, kissing Sansa’s temple. “I don’t want to go back there anymore.” She admitted, smiling to herself. “There’s no more reason to. I honour my Brother, and Father, and even Grandmother by living on past those who hurt them. And by being happy. Winterfell is home.” Margaery slowly pulled away from the hug, holding Sansa’s shoulders and smiling at her. “Anywhere that allows me to be next to you, that is home.”

Sansa blushed a deeper shade of crimson and bowed her head. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she mumbled softly, not meeting her wife’s eyes for a moment. However, she linked their hands together and squeezed gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Margaery responded, chuckling lightly. “And I rather love the fact that despite the years, I can still make you blush with a few kind words.” Margaery lifted her free hand, brushing the back against Sansa’s cheek. “Red is entirely your colour, my sweet.”

“Well, I should hope so. My hair is red,” Sansa pretended to huff, though she rested her cheek in Margaery’s palm. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she contently nuzzled into her wife’s touch.

“It is, and it is stunning.” Margeary smiled, leaning over and pressing a playful peck to Sansa’s nose. “Come, Daenerys said it would be time for Dinner soon enough. We should see what trunks have already arrived up here, try and find you a dress that allows me to show you off.”

“Only if I get to choose a dress that shows you off,” Sansa said proudly, leaning in to kiss Margaery sweetly on the lips.

“Oh darling, all of my dresses show me off.” Margaery teased. “You are the one with a wardrobe full of winter dresses that hide your stunning figure.”

“Well I wasn’t the one shivering half to death in Winterfell,” Sansa replied with a grin, kissing her wife again. “Should we match?”

“Yes, sadly our home’s climate is not suited to my preferred attire.” Margaery sighed dramatically, as if such a result was the cause of much hardship, before she grinned at Sansa. “Matching? My darling, staking your claim on me, are you?”

“Only a little,” Sansa said, kissing Margaery again. Really, Sansa was a little intimidated by Daenerys’ beauty, and while she knew her own couldn’t hold up against her, Margaery’s beauty had outshone almost everyone’s. Combined, there was a good chance that they might at least match up to the Mother of Dragons.

“You have no need of it, my love,” Margaery promised softly, kissing her temple gently. “We promised to love each other forever. There was a ceremony and everything. Your brother was there,” she murmured softly. Sansa snorted, rolling her eyes.

“There was? I don’t recall such an event. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?” Sansa checked, the corner of her lips curling up into a sly smile. “Or perhaps it’s that overactive imagination of yours.”

“You were the one who thought we were summoned here to be murdered, I’m pretty sure you’re the one with the overactive imagination,” Margaery teased lovingly. There was a pause, before both women laughed, Sansa shaking her head and squeezing Margaery’s hand.

“Come along. We can finish this witty back and forth as we choose each others dresses.” Sansa suggested. “I feel that might be a better use of our time, otherwise we may be summoned to dinner while still in our undergarments. Though that is a very bold outfit choice, I feel not even you could pull that off with grace, my love.”

“Though,” Margaery replied, her voice becoming low and husky. “Something to try when we get back to Winterfell, alone in our room, I think.” 

“I’ll think on it.” Sansa said with another shake of her head, finally releasing her wife and moving towards the trunks that had been placed near the foot of their bed. She opened the one that she knew belonged to Margaery, crouching carefully. “Chop chop, my love. Unless you’d like the Mother of Dragons and Lady Greyjoy to see me in my undergarments?”

“No, but I think I’ll watch you for a bit before you’re dressed,” Margaery murmured, sauntering over to the chair in the corner where she could get a better view of Sansa. Sansa rolled her eyes, continuing to rifle through the trunk before she pulled out a dress that she rather liked.

“Here, I think you should wear this one.” Sansa held out the blue dress, grinning at Margaery hopefully. It really was one of her favourites, though she hadn’t seen Margaery wear it in so long, thanks to Winterfell being so cold.

Margaery came over to inspect it thoughtfully. “Any particular reason why, treasure?” she asked, taking the fabric of Sansa. Although, if truth be told, she was more than happy to feel the soft and light fabric between her fingertips again.

“It’s a pretty dress. And it looks good on you.” Sansa paused, before straightening. “It is one I have missed seeing you wear. Now we are somewhere warm again, it seems the perfect moment.”

Margaery smiled and kissed her nose. “All right, let me find something for you.” She began rifling through the trunk, smiling to herself as she hummed a little tune. It took a few minutes before she found a purple dress, and stopped. “What about this one?” she asked her wife. Sansa lifted the skirts of the dress, frowning slightly.

“It may no longer fit me.” Sansa admitted, a light blush colouring her cheeks. “I have grown since it was made for me. But I’d be willing to try it on.”

“Why is it in here if it no longer fits you?” Margaery grumbled a little bit.

“Because we packed in half-light and I was feeling far more optimistic when I set it in the trunk.” Sansa pointed out, chuckling and taking the dress from Margaery’s hands. “I shall try it. Providing that I do not bulge anywhere inappropriate, I feel it shall be fine for tonight.”

“More for me to look at if you do,” Margarey hummed contemplatively, taking the other dress from Sansa’s hands.

“And for everyone else.” Sansa added on, setting down her dress and moving to untie Margaery’s corset, allowing her the chance to slip out of her current dress and into the new one.

Margaery preened in front of the mirror for a bit twirling around in the dress a bit. “I have to say, I do like Winterfell dresses. The laces don’t feel as constrictive.” Sansa chuckled, nodding and turning in the hopes that Margaery would undo her own dress in turn.

“Yes, we have all of those layers to hide our impure forms from the world, no need for oppressive corsets.” She agreed, the teasing in her voice over-shadowed by a slight bitterness.

Margaery frowned and spun around. “Are you insinuating that my wife is anything less than perfect?” she asked seriously. Sansa rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder at Margaery.

“It was a joke, Margie. I promise. Can you untie me, please? Or do you plan on having me try and undo my own corset?”

Margaery came over and began untying the laces on Sansa’s dress. “Joke or no, I’ll not have you speak to my wife that way. Now apologize,” she said, jerking her chin toward Sansa’s reflection. “My wife is the absolute pinnacle of perfection and I won’t have you believing anything less than that.” Sansa’s cheeks tinged red again, and she quickly looked away from the mirror. No matter what Margaery saw, all Sansa could see when she gazed at her own reflection, were the scars others had left on her.

“You’re being overly complimentary again.” Sansa muttered, using that to deflect the attention away a little. “Have you done something that requires an apology?”Margaery paused in the untying of Sansa’s corset to press a kiss to a scar.

“Perhaps not today,” she said quietly. “But in the past...I suppose.” Sansa turned, enough of her corset undone for her dress to be looser, and rested their foreheads together.

“You have nothing to apologise to me for, not from your past.” She assured Margaery. “Nothing at all.”

Margaery’s thumb trailed across another scar, contemplatively. “I feel as if I could’ve prevented this somehow. Made you a lady’s maid, or...or something. I should’ve done more than just been a pretty face.” Sansa bit back a sigh. This conversation was as common as the ones in which Margaery talked her down from her own panicked thoughts about being murdered.

“You tried. You had your plan to marry me to Loras and send us both back to High Garden. You did try. What happened was far beyond your control. If you need a place to lay your blame, lay it at the feet of the Lannisters. They are the cause of most of our woes.” Sansa took Margaery’s hand, guiding it away from her scar and pressing it instead to her chest for a moment, atop her heart. “We both made it through, that is the important thing to remember.”

Margaery nodded and pulled Sansa close, burying her face in her wife’s neck. “I love you,” she said simply, hoping everything she was feeling could be conveyed in those three words. Margaery knew that Sansa hated being thought of as a victim, but sometimes Margaery struggled to see her as anything else. She’d been a victim to so many people’s cruelty, and Margaery still felt that she could have done  _ something _ to prevent it, no matter how many times she’d been told differently.

“I love you too.” Sansa smiled, squeezing Margaery’s hand softly. “If I didn’t love you, your hand wouldn’t be on my chest.” She was teasing now, trying to bring back the beautiful smile that she loved so much.

“Watch it, you, or it’ll move south and we’ll never be on time for dinner,”  Margaery said with a soft smile, kissing Sansa’s cheek. Sansa gave a gasp, pretending to be horrified by the suggestion.

“Well then, that certainly puts an end to that.” She said firmly, removing Margaery’s hand and chuckling. “Come on, dress off.” Sansa paused. “And not for that reason.”

“Later if I’m good?” Margaery asked, giving her wife puppy dog eyes. Sansa snorted, shaking her head in mirth.

“Yes, if you manage to behave at dinner, we can get your dress off for the other reason.” She promised Margaery, arms coming free from her current dress. Sansa stepped out of the skirts and set it on the bed. Lifting the purple dress, Sansa eyed it, before nodding. Really, she should fit. It wasn’t as if she could have grown that much in any direction. Breathing in deeply, Sansa took the plunge and began to step into the dress.

Meanwhile, Yara peppered kisses down Dany’s neck, gently nibbling at the juncture of Dany’s neck and shoulder. “Come now, love, they’re not gonna care if we’re late,” she murmured. “You’re their Queen. You’re never late. Everyone else is simply early.” Dany’s head was already tilted to the side, the flush from her cheeks extending down her chest.

“Perhaps, but I don’t feel it’s a good idea for me to arrive with a neck stained purple.” She pointed out, catching her breath. “Not to mention, if we truly wish to woo these women, being on time seems a good first requirement.” Not that Daenerys wasn’t  _ greatly _ enjoying Yara’s attention to her neck. But they’d summoned Sansa Stark and Maergery Tyrell for a reason, and they only had a month to make their decision, before the girls left again.

“Could be a test of patience on their part,” Yara hummed, moving her mouth down to the top of Dany’s breasts. She nibbled gently, not enough to mark or bruise, but definitely enough to tantalize. “How long would they be willing to wait for their Queen? Can they be patient or will they get all righteous and huffy?” Yara smirked against Dany’s skin, looking up at her. “After all, it feels a little early to see if they’ll bend the knee. And you already know I will.”

“Yara!” No matter how many times Daenerys had heard Yara’s lines, ones such as that would always make her blush and scold her wife. “You are a terrible woman!” Dany’s attempts at firm words were met with further smirking from Yara.

“You’re right, my love. Truly terrible. Though, that isn’t quite the way I wanted you to say my name,” Yara said contemplatively, already beginning the descent to her knees. Of course, she’d stop if Dany truly insisted, but Yara was rather enjoying pushing the boundary right now. “I could show you how I would prefer you to speak my name, if you’re willing?”

“Only if you behave at dinner and if we arrive on time,” Dany said breathlessly, barely keeping herself from breaking out into a needy moan. Her hands were gripping at the desk behind her, using that to keep her on her feet. Yara smirked, shooting a wink up at her wife before lifting the light skirt of Daenerys underclothes and vanishing beneath it.”Yara, I mean it. Stop.” There was a whine as Yara re-emerged.

“So close.” She scoffed, standing carefully and brushing down her knees, before kissing Daenerys. “But you had to ruin my fun.” Yara was teasing again, even if it was in a different context.

“I told you: you have to be good at dinner and I’ll give you everything you want and then some,” Dany promised in a low murmur, nibbling Yara’s ear gently. “Do you want to service your Queen tonight? Or would you rather she service you?” Yara shivered, but the smirk never left her face.

“Ah, my Queen, I live to serve you.” She pointed out, fingers sliding over Dany’s stomach and around to playfully scratch down her back. Though she barely left a mark. “Though if Dinner is quick, I feel both would be a fair trade.”

“We’re having a full, multi course meal,” Dany said with an eyebrow raise. “After all, I’ll need to test your patience with them too, now, won’t I?”

“My patience is fine!” Even as the words left Yara’s mouth, she knew they were a lie. Her patience for most people was very low. They talked too much, or concerned themselves only with the very shallowest of topics.

Dany smirked, her eyes glimmering with love and amusement. “And the Dragons are still small enough to fit on my shoulder.” She shot back, chuckling slightly.

“Viserion would try if you’d let him,” Yara muttered.

“Doesn’t mean he’d fit.” Dany pointed out, kissing Yara’s nose. “Now come, this was partly your idea, after all. You were the one to point out that a month together would be enough time to know whether we truly should expand our happy home.” She reminded her wife, stepping away to dress. She had a feeling if they remained too close or unclothed for much longer, she truly would give in and they would be  _ very _ late for dinner.

“I’m not wearing a dress,” Yara said after a few minutes. She watched, having taken Dany’s position of leaning against the desk, as Daenerys pondered between two dresses.

“I never once expected you would.” Dany pointed out, settling on one with a smile, holding it up to her form and spinning to face Yara. “This one?” She checked, having grown used to Yara weighing in on what she wore.

“You look ravishing in either, but, I like that one better. It’s more low cut,” Yara said with a rakish grin. Dany rolled her eyes, but kept smiling.

“Then it is perfect for our first meal with our guests.” Daenerys glaced at herself in the mirror and sighed. “Though I do hope it will cover the marks you have left on me. Must you always be so possessive?” She questioned, beginning the work that it took to get her into her dress.

Yara’s eyes flickered to the door before flickering back to her wife. “Aye, I do. I’m proud that I’m yours.” Feeling reassured that the door was still open enough, Yara sighed and pushed off the desk. “I should probably find some clean trousers then.”

“Yes that would be wise. And without holes.” Dany requested, getting her arms into the dress.

“Oh well now you’re asking far too much.” Yara tossed over her shoulder as she began rifling through their wardrobe carefully.

“That’s your Queen that you’re talking too,” Dany said playfully. She smoothed down her dress. “I’m ready when you are, love.” Yara nodded, pulling on a somewhat appropriate shirt and pants combination.

“Let's get this started then.” She agreed with a mischievous smirk. Dany offered her arm to Yara, kissing her cheek. Her smirk blossoming into a grin, Yara took Dany’s arm and squeezed lightly. Together, the two of them set off towards the Hall where they would take their meal.


	4. After Dinner Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany and Sansa have a talk. Yara shares something with Margaery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken us so long, LesboDyke finally got a handle on their sleeping pattern, and seemeeimbeebee has started working again, meaning we can only write on weekends.
> 
> But that aside, hope you enjoy this chapter.  
> (Also, there's a few comments made about Jon Snow's face. We love him with all our hearts, but at times he has a stupid looking face. It's all in good jest, no harm intended.)

Sansa had been so worried all throughout dinner, that she’d barely tasted anything she’d eaten. Yara had insisted to escort Margaery around the castle, leaving her alone, as Missandei asked for Daenerys's attention for just a moment. She stood at the window, staring out over the dark ocean crashing against the sand.

Her hand curled around the windowsill as she tried to breathe. She tried not to listen to the overwhelming cry of  _ trap trap trap _ ringing in her head. She took in a shuddering breath, and did not hear the soft footfalls of someone behind her.

“I do not blame you,” Daenerys started quietly. “For feeling ill at ease so far from home.”

“I was lured into a trap in my own home, location hardly matters to me now, Your Grace,” Sansa muttered, not turning around. She felt Dany come to stand beside her, but she did not turn to look at the other woman.

“The men who use the whip do not often care to see the scars they left behind,” Dany mused quietly.

“Oh, he cared and prided himself for it,” Sansa grumbled. “I believe if he’d been able to find someone to do it, he would have had a portrait painted of my pain, and hung it for all to see.” Sansa finally glanced to the other woman, wanting to see what expressions marked her face.

“I wasn’t talking about these,” Dany replied after a moment, a finger gently tracing a scar along Sansa’s exposed shoulder. Her face was not steeled with horror like Jon’s had been, but rather mellowed into something that was closest to a grim understanding. Sansa had to fight not to pull away from the touch, despite this. She held her arm in place, feeling the muscles lock to fight her instinct to flinch back.

Dany quickly drew her hand away. “Forgive me, Lady Sansa.” Dany rested her hands behind her back, hoping that putting them far away from the Northerner would relax her some. “I should not have presumed to be so familiar with you.”

Sansa let out a breath and her shoulders relaxed. From their perch, they could hear Yara and Margaery laughing together. “Well those two seem to have caught on like hay and fire,” she said, a genuine smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “I look forward to getting to know you. My brother holds you in high esteem.”

“My nephew?” Dany asked with a somewhat teasing lilt in her voice. “Yes, he has praised you at length, and I look forward to getting to know you as well.”

“He is my brother in every way that counts,” Sansa said confidently. Jon was her family, as much as Arya was, and her other brothers had been. She didn’t care about blood, not anymore. “Though it’s nice to hear he doesn’t down-talk like siblings often do,” she added on, biting back a slight chuckle. Sansa had heard Arya talk about her.

“He was too relieved that you were alive,” Dany confessed. “We talked about it once. On the way to King’s Landing. He told me that seeing you, at the Wall...he thought you were a ghost.” She paused, remembering the look on Jon’s face with something of affection. She was glad that he had not been a Targaryen alone in the world. He had his pack. “He told me the Throne did not mean a thing if he could not protect his family.” Sansa was smiling as she listened to Dany’s words. It took a moment, and an awful lot of mental strength, but she reached out, her fingertips brushing Dany’s arm in turn.

“I know he was happy to find you,” Sansa’s words were as soft as the touch to Dany. “He’d always wanted to know where he came from. And I’m glad he found you at the end of his search.” With her words said, Sansa withdrew again. She didn’t fidget, no matter how she wanted to. She was still a proper Lady.

“I’m glad he had you to help him get there.” Dany dipped her head, acknowledging the bravery it took Sansa for the little action. She had a feeling that if she pushed, Sansa would withdraw. They were similar in that way. It seemed they were similar in a lot of ways.

Her eyebrows lifted as she watched Yara forcibly, but playfully, shove Margaery. “Yara,” she muttered under her breath, her hand coming across the windowsill like she could stop it from where she could. She could hear Sansa chuckling beside her, and let herself relax. If Sansa did not seem to take offense at Yara’s playfulness with Margaery, then it wasn’t worth getting upset over.

“Is she like that often?” Sasna asked curiously, smiling at the faint trills of laughter they could hear from the shore.

“You have no idea,” Dany murmured affectionately. “But her battles she takes seriously. And the safety of her people as well.” A warm, companionable silence passed between them as they watched their wives bonding.

Sansa was the one to break it, clearing her throat quietly before speaking. “I wanted to ask…” She started, staring down at Margaery and Yara to avoid making eye contact with Dany. “Why you brought us here?”

Dany took in a deep breath, trying not to panic. It was too soon, only after their first meal, and they didn’t know each other well enough. But Sansa was just like her brother, sharp and observant. Lying to her would be worse than telling the truth. A half truth would have to do for now.

“I thought that our houses needed to be closer. Jon is a link between us, but given how the world used to be, there should be more of a link. Between us as the house heads.”

“You are not telling me the whole truth,” Sansa stated matter of factly, looking back out to the ocean. “If you mean us harm,” she added quietly. “I ask you to spare Margaery... she is the love of my life, and I can’t...I can’t…” She was surprised to find herself getting choked up, but did not look at Daenerys for fear of starting to cry. Dany fought her own urge to pull Sansa into a hug. That would only harm this budding friendship.

“I have no desire to harm you, Sansa,” Dany spoke the words carefully, not taking her eyes from Sansa. “Or Margaery,” She was quick to add the assurance for Sansa’s wife as well.

“Forgive me, I don’t feel comfortable believing you just yet,” Sansa replied, her voice feeling a little steadier than it had been. Dany bit back a heavy sigh. She had known it would be a long road.

“That is understandable.” Daenerys agreed, managing a smile. “But I hope one day you will.”

“You trust me already, feel comfortable with me already,” Sansa noted, turning back to look Dany in the eye now. “Why?” She tried not to sound too demanding, but this was something she had struggled with. She never knew if she was safe unless she was with Margaery or back at home. Standing there, feeling exposed with no tether made her nerves claw their way back into her throat. “What have I done to earn your trust? You cannot just...trust someone from another house. Not after everything.”

“I was not raised like you,” Daenerys said, “The only thing I knew of other houses was what my brother had taught me. And he had lied about so much, that I refused to believe his truth that every other house was simply out to get us. When I reached out to houses here, I was welcome. Lady Olenna, the Sand Snakes of Dorne, Jon, and others beside. They were all House Heads, and all treated me with respect. I find that being open at first allows for more connections than being closed off,” she finished her explanation, before realising how it sounded. “Though, of course, I understand why you might choose to close off.”

“My father took in Jon, took in Theon Greyjoy. It was not how I was raised that made me like this,” Sansa muttered. Her eyes flicked downward and she added, “I suspect that you could only be open because you had...something to fear. Something that made them respect you.” She bit her lip. “Cersei made me write a letter to my brother, telling him to denounce my father as a traitor, to come bend the knee. She told me it was the only way to save my father’s life.” She closed her eyes now, taking in a deep breath. “I stood beside him as he was beheaded. I was open, and trusting once.” Her eyes flicked back up to Dany’s, harder than ice. “And I have nothing but scars to show for it. You have the throne, if you want it.”

She sighed and looked back out over the water. “I want to trust,” she finished. “I just...can’t.”

Dany thought about this for a moment. “Have you ever seen the dragons up close?” she asked. “I would very much like to introduce you to my children.” It seemed like a strange change of subject, but her babies were Dany’s one true point of worry. She was afraid of losing them, and had difficulty trusting others around them.

Sansa mulled this over. She could say no, and be perfectly within reason. The dragons could eat her, or burn her alive. But when she looked at Daenerys saw a woman with no ill will toward her. Just someone who she could look in the eye, and know that she would receive no pity in return. She looked at Daenerys Targaryen and saw someone who would look back and say ‘I know what you have been through and I understand’ not with words, but with actions. So she nodded. “I would like to meet your children.”

Daenerys beamed, motioning towards the door. There was a slight spring in each step, an almost bounce. “Then let me lead the way, if you will,” she encouraged with a wide smile.

“Finally, she stopped brooding,” Margaery sighed with relief, watching the two women walk away from the windowsill. “It’s genetic in the Starks, I swear. Every one of them can brood like nobody’s business,” she snorted, bumping against Yara. The two of them had already formed something of a friendship, and they were comfortable enough to tease and shove already.

“I think it might be a Targaryen trait as well.” Yara shrugged, bumping back. “I’ve seen Dany brood before and it’s not pretty. Perhaps we can pit them against each other in a brooding contest?” She suggested

“Seems they’ve already done that for themselves,” Margaery responded, jerking her head up toward the windowsill where their wives had just departed from. “Where d’you suppose they’ve gone, anyhow?”

“Oh no, that wasn’t Dany brooding. If she was brooding, it would be raining, her moods affect the weather.” Yara wiggled her fingers towards Margaery with a smirk. “And probably off to do Lady things, like sniff flowers or sew pillows.”

“Forgive me, but Daenerys Targaryen does not seem like the type to do either of those things,” Margaery replied. A delighted roar sounded across the beach as the dragons flew from their resting place, and flew lowly to two figures on a cliffside. “They won’t eat Sansa, right? Do they eat people?”

“They eat people, but only when Mother Dearest tells them to,” Yara assured Margaery, patting her shoulder. “If you’re that worried, we can go over there? I’m sure the babies would enjoy meeting you too.”

“I’m not as worried. For one, Sansa Stark doesn’t go anywhere she doesn’t want to go these days. For another, she had a direwolf at one point and has expressed repeatedly that she wants another,” Margaery laughed. “Have you ever seen a direwolf?”

“Yes.” Yara shuddered. “I’ve met Ghost. I don’t understand you land people and your obsession with animals big enough to swallow you whole.”

“There’s no giant squid we should be aware of?” Margaery laughed. “And Ghost is all right...once you’ve bribed him with enough raw meat to make him like you. He’ll fall asleep at Sansa’s feet sometimes, when he’s not busy being Jon’s protector.”

“Not any more,” Yara snorted with laughter. “There’s stories about the Kraken throughout Greyjoy history. But I’ve never seen one, and I don’t believe in things I’ve not seen.”

“No one believed the dragons still existed,” Margaery pointed out. Yara snorted, chuckling slightly.

“Okay, you got me there.” She agreed, looping her arm through Margaery’s and tugging her further down the beach. “But I still prefer to believe in things I can see and hear. It makes the world a little less crazy.”

“I wasn’t aware a less crazy world actually existed,” Margaery replied with a roll of her eyes, resting her hand on Yara’s bicep for balance and other reasons.

“Well, one certainly does in my imagination.” Yara chuckled as they reached the stacked rocks. “It’s up here.” She motioned up the rocks. “It’s gonna be a bit of a tricky ascent in your dress, but I’ll help you out.” Yara was grinning, as she put her foot on the first rock and held her hand out to Margaery with a wink. “If you want to see the pool, that is.”

“Jon never mentioned anything about rock climbing,” Margaery said, taking Yara’s hand. “Didn’t also mention that the boat ride was going to be particularly awful either.”

“This is why we don’t trust men with anything.” Yara pointed out. “Certainly not with secret starfish filled rock pools.” Yara gave a soft tug, helping Margaery up onto the first rock. “Besides, the first few times he was here, I was… not.” Yara’s joking demeanour dropped for a moment, before she released Margaery and scrambled up the next rock. Offering her hand down again, the cocky smile was firmly back in place. Nothing kept her down for long, but that was more by choice than through strength of character.

Margaery was quick to follow, choosing not to comment on Yara’s slip in demeanor. Sansa knew not to push her when she was lost in her thoughts and she did not want to push Yara either. “Well, not for nothing,” she replied, slightly out of breath as they continued to climb. “I’d much prefer your company over Jon’s any day.”

“Good to know I rate higher than the gormless boy.” Yara snorted, allowing them a chance to rest on a large flat rock. “Don’t sit, unless you wanna look like you’ve had an unfortunate accident.” She warned, leaning back against the next rock she’d have to climb. “And if you do sit, I’m not saving you from Dany. She needs a distraction from the last time I did it.”

Margaery skirted around the rock. “I’ll stand,” she replied, crossing her arms. “And Jon is a good man. He’s just...Sansa’s older brother,” she replied. “Does that make sense?” Yara nodded, offering Margaery a knowing grin.

“True. But he does look like there’s little more than fluff between his ears.” Yara pointed out. “He has that face, the one that says ‘I understood some of what you were saying…’.” She snorted, shaking her head. “But he’s smarter than he looks, I’ll admit to that.”

“He’s good,” Margaery replied. “It’s...it’s nice to be near and associate to someone who is good, and only wants to do good.” She looked contemplative for another moment. “He’s tired of fighting. And I can appreciate that. I think we all can.” Margaery sighed, glancing at Yara. She wasn’t smiling anymore.

“It’s strange.” Yara admitted. “Not fighting, I mean. I’m Ironborn, it’s in our blood to go and pillage and fight. It’s all I thought I wanted out of life. And now… I don’t. Well, I do, but I don’t.” Yara sighed, shaking her head. “I’m not making sense. I miss what I expected my life to be. But I’m happy with where I am.” She settled on, knowing it wasn’t quite what she was trying to say, but it was close enough.

“Anyway, that’s enough sappy shit from both of us. We’ve a little more of a climb before we get there.”Margaery nodded determinedly and came over to Yara’s side. 

“Show me where to go next,” she said brightly. Yara pointed up, with a grin.

“Over this rock, and a quick walk. Nearly there.” Yara turned, hands finding familiar hand holds. “Watch where my hands and feet go, and copy. I’ll help you at the top,” she called over her shoulder to Margaery, before pulling herself up carefully.

Margaery nodded, face set in a mask of determination. Though there were times where she scrambled a little bit for purchase, she was able to follow Yara up. The other woman’s ‘no nonsense’ attitude had Margarey convinced that this pool was not only worth seeing, but that she’d safely get there.

“I swear, I’ve hauled in fish that weigh more.” Yara scoffed as she pulled Margaery onto the flat cliff. She pointed down a little way to a dip. “It’s just there, little walk and a slight drop. No more than jumping the last step of stairs.” She assured Margaery, still grasping her arm.

“Ah, so that’s what happened to the kraken,” Margaery teased, linking her arm a little more securely with Yara’s. Yara hummed, before snorting loudly.

“Just realised that if Dany and I were able to have kids, they’d be Krakens. Dragons and sea monsters, the stuff of legends.” Yara clearly didn’t think before she spoke. Ever. The words were followed by raucous laughter as she led Margaery along the flat top of the rock. As they reached the edge, Yara motioned to the surprisingly large rock pool. “Just a short drop now, Lady Rose.”

“You can call me Margaery, you know,” Margaery replied, her face bright with laughter. “Considering you’ve whisked me away from my wife for a private stroll in the moonlight.” 

“It’s still daylight. Just.” Yara pointed out. “I wouldn’t take a lady in a dress climbing cliff faces in the dark. Especially not the wife of a wolf. I’m reckless, not stupid.” With a breath, Yara took the drop with a careful jump, before turning and extending her arms up towards Margaery. “Come on then, jump down. I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Margaery hopped down with ease, letting Yara catch her. “Easy,” she huffed, a little winded, but excited nonetheless. “Also, you can just see the moon coming round the other side of the sky,” she teased, nudging Yara with her hip. “So rock climbing in the moonlight it technically was. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Dany.”

“It’s not my wife I’m worried about. I break my neck out here, she’ll just laugh at my stupidity. It’s yours.” Yara chuckled, tangling her fingers with Margaery’s. She led them to the pool with a grin. “Plus, this pool is best in twilight.”

“May I sit here or will more trouble befall me?” Margaery asked. Yara chuckled. 

“No, the rocks here are smooth, so they’ll be dry enough. It’s the moss ones that make you look like you’ve pissed.” She motioned to the rock around the pool. “But sit and be quiet, it’s almost time and they won’t come out if we’re loud.”

“What?” Margaery asked in a whisper, her eyes wide. She could see the reflection of the sky and the stars in the pool, and that was enough to take her breath away. Or so she thought. Yara got herself settled on her preferred rock, patting the spot next to her.

“Sit, and you’ll see.” Yara whispered in response, tugging Margaery’s wrist and getting her to sit just in time. The pool rippled and a crab slowly emerged from his underwater cave. It took a moment before the crab began to glow a soft blue.

Margaery took in a soft breath as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She wanted to express her excitement, but didn’t want to scare the crab away after Yara’s warning. So she squeezed as tightly as she could. Yara squeezed back, grinning widely. One of her favourite things was to show people these crabs.

She’d found them one night after a struggle to sleep. It had been unusually cold, and Dany had closed the door without thinking, so Yara had gone walking to calm down. Now, it was one of her favourite places to sit, and one of her favourite things to share.

They sat together comfortably as more crabs emerged, a few scuttling over the nearby rocks, but all keeping a healthy distance from the two humans watching them.  _ This could work _ , Yara thought to herself, catching herself smiling in Margaery’s direction.  _ I really should listen to Dany’s plans more often _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews keep us writing!


End file.
